The next morning, Louis showed up at Mo Fei's apartment and woke him up without mercy.
"Get up," he said, dragging the sheets off him. "We barely have any time to get ready."
Mo Fei groaned awake, his soul clearly still somewhere between sleep and betrayal.
In less than ten minutes, he had changed into a gym outfit and was standing in front of Louis, still visibly sleep-deprived.
Louis assessed him from head to toe ignoring the dead look in his eyes.
"Good," he said. "We're going upstairs."
Before Mo Fei could ask questions, Louis dragged him out of the apartment and toward the rooftop gym.
When they got there, Mo Fei looked around.
The gym was empty. No one was there yet.
"Why are we here?" Mo Fei asked, frowning.
Shouldn't he be practicing his walk? His pacing? His runway presence?
Why the gym?
Louis looked him up and down with open disappointment.
"You seem determined to lose all this glorified beauty you have," he said, then pointed at a treadmill. "Get on it."
Mo Fei climbed onto one of the treadmills, turned it on, and began walking slowly.
"Louis, I get that I have to exercise," he muttered, "but this early?"
Right now, he almost cursed himself for suggesting the idea to Louis yesterday.
Before Louis could respond, the door opened and Zhang Yichen walked in.
He was dressed in all black, his expression cold and unreadable as he crossed the gym and dropped his bag nearby.
"Good morning," Louis greeted with a bow.
Yichen returned the bow politely. "Good morning."
"Hi," Mo Fei said.
Yichen looked at him once.
Then ignored him completely.
He stepped onto the treadmill beside Mo Fei, turned it on, and immediately started walking at a much faster pace.
Mo Fei stared ahead.
Note to self: avoid this bastard.
Louis left not long after, but not before warning Mo Fei not to stray.
For the next couple of hours, Mo Fei worked out beside Yichen.
At first, he tried to keep up.
Then his body began to betray him.
Mo Fei had never been one for exercise or unnecessary stress. The former owner of this body, however, had clearly done his best to keep it fit.
Such hassle.
Eventually, Mo Fei collapsed onto the floor, exhausted to death. His breathing came out ragged and uneven, sweat dampening his brows and sliding down his body.
At one point, he almost decided to give up.
But then again, who was going to succeed him?
No one.
So he kept going.
Until he couldn't anymore.
He sat on the floor, gasping for breath, while Zhang Yichen continued exercising as if this was nothing more than a leisurely morning stroll.
Show-off.
Mo Fei turned to the side and sat up properly, grabbing a towel to wipe his face.
He needed water.
His lungs felt like they were about to file a resignation letter.
Then something lightly poked his cheek.
Mo Fei looked up.
Zhang Yichen was standing beside him, holding out a bottle of water.
"Uhm…" Mo Fei took it from him. "Thanks."
He opened the bottle and drank from it when Yichen spoke.
"You're the most useless model I've ever seen."
Then he turned and went back to his workout.
Mo Fei froze.
The water suddenly tasted bitter in his mouth. Slowly, he stood up and faced him.
"I beg your pardon?"
Yichen ignored him.
Mo Fei walked toward him and blocked his path.
"Move," Yichen said flatly.
"No." Mo Fei lifted his chin. "Apologize."
He was pissed.
First of all, he had no idea what he had ever done to this man.
Why me? Why always me?
Chen Yu was right. Zhang Yichen really was insufferable.
Yichen finally looked at him.
"Would you like to fly through a window again?" he asked, a faint smirk touching his lips.
Mo Fei, "..."
Huh?
Did this man just smile while making a dark joke?
[A/N: Yichen, do you want to recreate his former suicide?]
"What did I even do to you?" Mo Fei demanded. "How can you say something like that about someone you don't even know?"
"Because it's true," Yichen said. "When have you ever been serious?"
Mo Fei stared at him.
"What? I've always been serious. It's not my fault I can't impress you."
He rolled his eyes, but the words stung more than he wanted to admit.
"Work toward it, then," Yichen said coldly. "The last thing I want to do is clean up your mess again."
He had done enough for the day.
Without waiting for Mo Fei's response, Yichen walked to his bag, picked it up, and headed for the door.
Then he left, slamming it shut behind him.
Mo Fei stood there, stunned.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he closed his eyes.
Fine.
He had messed up before.
Or rather, the former occupant of this body had.
But he and that person were not the same.
Mo Fei wanted to change that.
He wanted to show everyone that he was not timid. Not stupid. Not someone who would keep running away.
When he opened his eyes again, his expression had shifted.
To do that, he needed to win over that brooding daylight vampire.
Two days later, Louis and Mo Fei arrived at Zhen Fashion House for Mo Fei's runway practice.
Mo Fei changed into a different outfit and stepped onto the stage, standing at the beginning of the long, curved runway.
Zhen sat beside Louis in one of the chairs already arranged near the stage.
"Okay, turn on the lights," Zhen announced.
A stage assistant responded immediately, and a bright light focused directly on Mo Fei.
Mo Fei squinted slightly against it.
"All right, Mo Fei," Zhen called out. "The theme for this show is Resurrection. Louis has already walked you through it, so without further... "
His voice was cut off by the sound of the door opening.
Zhang Yichen walked in with Nil.
He wore an elegant black suit, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.
"You're late, Yichen!" Zhen said, standing up to receive him.
Yichen's gaze moved toward the stage, where Mo Fei stood beneath the light.
For the past two days, they had worked out side by side, but neither of them had said anything more to each other after the first day.
Yichen noticed Mo Fei's appearance. His outfit. His posture. The way he stood beneath the light as if the stage had been waiting for him.
But he said nothing.
He turned his gaze away, walked toward a chair, and sat down with Nil beside him.
Zhen focused back on Mo Fei.
"Let's take it from the top, Mo Fei." His eyes brightened. "Are you ready?"
Mo Fei nodded.
"Good." Zhen clapped once. "Lights."
The lights lowered, leaving only the centre of the stage illuminated where Mo Fei stood.
"That's your cue," Zhen said.
Mo Fei hesitated for a moment.
In his past life, he had been a rookie model. Not the best, but not terrible either. He had been good, just not good enough for the industry to truly notice him.
But these past few months, after waking up in this body, he had discovered something.
He took his first step onto the runway.
This body had been trained. Perfected and sharpened.
It was good at everything in a way that almost felt unfair. Sometimes, Mo Fei thought it was a shame for someone with this much potential to remain stuck as merely an A-list model.
This body was made to walk.
Made to command attention and own a runway.
Mo Fei moved forward step by step, his posture calm and flawless. Every stride he took was elegant, and controlled.
The theme, Resurrection, was meant to depict someone rising from the ashes.
Someone who had fallen.
Someone who had burned.
Someone returning to claim what had once been theirs.
And somehow, Mo Fei carried that story in the way he walked.
Zhen's eyes widened.
He had known Mo Fei was good. But this good?
Then why had he limited himself for so long?
Louis simply watched from his seat, his expression calm but his eyes unreadable.
This furry little troublemaker.
Even after months away from the runway, Mo Fei still proved he could own it.
Zhang Yichen watched him quietly.
He was neither impressed nor annoyed.
To him, Mo Fei was only doing what he was supposed to do.
Mo Fei kept walking.
Each stride looked like the rise of an emperor returning to claim his empire. Backstage, some of the workers paused what they were doing, unable to stop themselves from watching.
Because of Zhen's strict policy, no one was allowed to take pictures or post anything. Mo Fei closing the show was still confidential, known only to Zhen, Louis, Nil, and Zhang Yichen.
Mo Fei reached the end of the runway.
Then his eyes caught Yichen's. For a moment, they stared at each other.
Then Mo Fei turned through the curve and made his way back.
When he reached the centre of the stage, he stopped.
For a second, no one moved.
Then Zhen stood.
He clapped once. Then again and again.
Soon, the crew backstage could not help but join in the applause.
"Damn, did you see that?"
"He still owns the runway."
"No wonder brands used to fight over him."
"It's honestly a shame he almost quit."
"What nonsense are you saying? Does Mo Fei look like someone who could quit? Just look at how he shines on stage."
The murmurs around them were not exactly quiet, and everyone could hear them.
Zhen smiled as he looked up at Mo Fei.
"At first, I was afraid you had gone rusty after staying away from the runway for months," he said. "But you proved me wrong, Mo Fei." His smile widened.
"You're still the Prince of the Runway."
The Prince of the Runway. Yes.
Mo Fei owned that title.
The internet had once called him that before he withdrew from the industry and chose to live quietly in the background.
Now he was back to take it.
Because a crown was not lost simply because it was set aside. It was only lost when someone else became worthy enough to take it.
And in all the time Mo Fei had reduced his presence, no one had been worthy.
Mo Fei glanced over at Zhang Yichen, who was still staring at him. His eyes sharpened.
Just you wait, you bastard.
I'll prove to you that I still own this kingdom.